


Clove's Final Words

by Lellolioness



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3504077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lellolioness/pseuds/Lellolioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clove's death, and her last moment with Cato. She has to say something, before it's too late...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clove's Final Words

**Author's Note:**

> just a sad tiny lil one-shot for any Clato shippers out there :'(  
> also on my account at ff.net  
> Hope you enjoy!

The world around me, the arena, slowly shifts to dull, gray, _death_. The shock, and the pain that emanated from my head moments ago has numbed, either from loss of blood or simply because I'm dying. My breathing has turned from raptured, fighting gulps of air, to shallow, short uneven little breaths, and I realize as the corners of my vision blur from tears and unconsciousness, that this is real, and no matter how many perfect hits I get with my knives, no matter how many cruel sneers I send the other tributes, nothing can protect me now. _Not even Cato_ , I think, as he kneels over me and frets and shakes with the fear of being alone and from the bitterness of a harsh reality, _not even he can make this dull haze of death leave_. At least he is here, and I am not alone. At least he is here, and we are together. He has to know why I volunteered, why I killed for him, why _I'm the one dying instead of him_. I find his hand and hold it in mine, focusing on him as he gently puts his other arm around my back and lifts me up against his body. At one point I would have reveled in the fact that Cato had his strong arms around me, but that all seems childish now.

"Clove, " He whispers gently. His voice is filled with pain. Cato has to squeeze his throat not to cry, has to wait a moment to talk so he doesn't let out a sob instead. It breaks my heart.  _He's the one who will be alone._

"Clove, _please_." His voice cracks, and I know he is begging for me to hold on as my hand becomes limp in his, as my bloody, disfigured head starts to lull. "We can still do this. _Stay with me._ " He shakes me hard and desperately, my head snapping in what should have been a painful way, but I can't feel it, I can't feel anything now. "You'll get better. We'll be okay. _Clove, please._ We'll be okay. _We'll be okay_." He's says this more for him now than me. I smile, trying to comfort him in the only way I still can, trying to let him know it's _okay_ and that _I did this for him_. Of course, it doesn't work, and his breathing is still too fast and his eyes are still too wide with adrenaline and he is rocking us both back and forth now. He puts his forehead against mine and tries to pull my life force back with the desperate pleas he continues to chant under his breath.

"Cato," I whisper, gently and soft and watery, but not weak because even though I cannot find the energy to use the harshness of my regular tone I will stay strong until the end. " _Cato._ " I rest my hand on his face to still his shaking, and he releases a breath to calm down. We are probably the stars of Panem at this moment, cameras capturing all the pain and beauty of right now. This, us, is what I've always dreamed of, and I don't regret volunteering to make sure he was safe. Winning was never the end goal for me, and somehow I think he knew, from the way he is holding me now, and from the way he held me on the train and also during the weeks of training before the reaping.

I manage to say one more thing, the thing have I carried around for years, the whisper stuck in my throat for months. It is barely audible, and I die just after that, but I tell him I love him, and he holds me. He is with me till the end, and in a way, that is all I need.

xx


End file.
